


How Do You Say Goodnight to A Man Who Never Sleeps?

by bennyate_mycookies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, High School AU, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:06:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bennyate_mycookies/pseuds/bennyate_mycookies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last month of the summer after Dean Winchester's junior year nearly killed both him and his younger brother, Sam. Currently fatherless and damn near broke enough to eat out of a dumpster, Dean is determined to take better care of Sammy than Dad ever did. <br/>And he thinks he's doing just fucking fine. That is, until Sam stomps his way out of the closet with a goddamn marching band, getting himself a nothing-but-trouble boyfriend, and whatnot. <br/>And he really does think he's got this cooking-real-dinners thing d-o-w-n, until he invites his quiet, blue-eyed neighbor over for dinner in a small fit of insanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Need A Fucking Haircut.

It was slow; swirling tendrils of smoke and color trailed lazily behind his eyelids. Lights and sounds, both far too intense for 3:24 in the morning, drew Dean unceremoniously from his sleep, carelessly blowing the colors away. Suddenly the air was much too thick and the sound of Sammy screaming in the next room much too real. 

Dean threw the one blanket he slept with away from his bare legs, moving from his horizontal position on his bed to a hurried vertical stance near his bedroom door in less than twenty seconds. If a dangerously high percentage of Dean's focus wasn't clouded by confused panic, he might've congratulated himself on probably breaking a world record or something. 

Dean's reflexes were still catching up with his sudden alertness, and he may as well have been standing in the midst of the bright orange and yellow flames before it clicked that, indeed, there was a fire blazing outside of his baby brother's bedroom. 

"Sammy! Sam?" Dean shouted over the creaking of the burning wooden stairs.

"Dean? Help!" 

"I can't get to the door, Sammy! I can't- I- the fire-"

"Dean! Help! Help me!"

"Sammy, I can't-"  
~~~

Dean Winchester jolted upright in his bed, sweat coating his forehead completely, gluing his short hair to the very top of his skull. His one blanket, that was really only half of what it used to be due to being in a very unfortunate place on his bedroom floor at the time of the fire, was woven tightly around his ankles and calves, making it impossible to walk without manually untangling it. 

He wasn't at all surprised or confused by the manner of his awakening. Dean had been having almost the same subconscious vision every night since his father fell asleep with a lit cigarette in his hand and set their house-at-the-time on fire. Every time Dean fell into a deep sleep, he was haunted by the possibility of not being able to save his brother.


	2. You Need a Fucking Haircut. (part2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whilst writing the first chapter of this story, I accidentally posted it before I had finished. This is basically the rest of the first chapter. I apologize for the stupidity of this whole situation. :) Enjoy! xx

Sam would be trapped in his bedroom, surrounded completely by blazing flames, and Dean would have no logical way to pull him out. Sam would be pinned under an overturned vehicle, and Dean would lack in the body strength to lift it off of him. Or sometimes, and these were the worst, Sam would be sick, cancer or something, like their mother had been, and Dean would have no choice but to sit around and watch the only person he had left wither away slowly. Different scenario almost every time Dean tried to get to sleep. 

Nonetheless, Dean stood quickly from his bed, and, on shaky legs, sauntered down the hall to bang on Sammy's bedroom door. No fires.

One shower, brushing of the teeth, and shaving of the facial hair later, Dean was in the kitchen watching a strip of bacon sizzle on the stove. His eyes are still red and stinging from the few tears that he may have shed in the shower earlier. It wasn't like him to cry like that anymore. He'd long since gotten himself well acquainted with the heart racing fear that came with his nightmares. But Sam was going back to school this year, something Dean had opted out of, reasoning that senior year really wasn't that important, and who's going to look after shit if we're both at school. With Sam gone during the day, Dean would have no way of keeping an eye out for his brother. 

"Hey, Dean," Sam's sleep soaked voice startled Dean, and if you asked him, he'd tell you to fuck right off, because hell no he didn't jump when his brother spoke. He turned to see Sam lowering himself into on of the few pieces of furniture they had in the apartment they'd moved into after the fire. The boy's long legs traveled outward from the chair, reaching the other end of the table, and still continuing on to rest on the chair across from him. His hair displayed perfectly what Dean would call a drunk bird's nest, and small, irritating strands fell into Sam's eyes. 

"It's your first day, Sammy. You couldn't have gotten a hair cut?" Dean questioned affectionately, turning back towards the food. "You need a fucking haircut."

Sam chuckled in reply, but said nothing more. 

"How are you feeling about going back to school, Sam?" Dean tried, flipping some scrambled eggs and a bit of bacon onto a paper plate and sliding it to his brother. 

"Dean, I'm going. It feels fine. You're not changing my mind." Sam said before he shoveled a good two thirds of his eggs into his mouth at once. Dean kicked his feet off of the other chair, and slid into it easily.

"I know, I know. I just- it's gonna be lonely, Sam.

"You'll be at work, idiot."

"You were with me at work." Dean took a small bite of his breakfast, trying not to think about how much he-

"You sound like a girl, Dean." 

Yeah, that.

Sam stood from the table suddenly, tossing his disposable plate and fork on the counter and rushing down the hall to his room. Dean followed suit with his plate, though considerable less hurried. He paused for a moment, leaning against the counter with one hand, and gently pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. He really did wish that he could convince Sammy to stay. He could get a job somewhere too, and maybe then they'd have enough money to buy a better selection of food, or some towels for the bathroom, or a fucking six pack of beer. But Sam's smart, and Dean would have to be ten times dumber than he already is to think that a brain like that should go to waste.

He was proud of Sam. Even before Dad died, before it was entirely his job to take care of Sammy and the house and the money, Dean had been immensely proud of his brother. He'd sit with him during dinner and listen to Sam tell him all about how he'd aced his Chem test, and how math was his easiest subject. It fascinated Dean. The way his brother's mind worked, quick and full of great purpose, it was something Dean couldn't experience for himself. 

There was a bang, and Sam's breathing sounded heavier. Dean's brow furrowed and he rushed to the entranced of the hall.

"You okay, Sammy?"

"It's Sam, and I'm fine. Ran into the damn wall."

"Well, that's because you need a fucking haircut."

~~~


End file.
